


Not a Wet Dream

by Joel7th



Series: Stray [3]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Crack Pairing, Humor, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Oscar is one of The Swedes, Rare Pairings, Sequel, Spoilers for Season 2, The Swedes - Freeform, mention of Ben Hargreeves, mention of The Sparrow Academy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-31
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:00:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26215261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Joel7th/pseuds/Joel7th
Summary: Number One flushed beet-red. “They’re not wet dreams!” he barked.“Aren’t they? You just told me you dreamed about me with nothing but a towel on in some creepy, BDSM-inspired scene and then me being a kid in tiny shorts. You sure you aren’t a closeted pedo?”---Picked up right after Swiss-Army Ghost. What happened at Klaus’s shop when Number One (Emo Ben) came to find him.
Relationships: Klaus Hargreeves/Oscar
Series: Stray [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1891927
Comments: 14
Kudos: 108





	Not a Wet Dream

As expected, Klaus found Oscar in his bed when he returned after a nice and long bubble bath. The ghost was sitting cross-legged in the middle of the mattress with a pop-up book open on his laps and his gun laid at the foot of the bed per a tacit agreement between them. Funny that Klaus didn’t even remember owning such a book but Oscar had an uncanny knack for excavating odd items from his motley possessions. He had told himself time and time again to lift his lazy ass and sort them out and maybe hold a garage sale to get rid of things of no use to him for more living space — God, Five had threatened to pop his kneecaps more than considered healthy, but then his procrastination had kicked him in nuts and so, tomorrow had turned into next week and next week into next month and next month, well...

Oscar scooted away to make room for Klaus without diverting his gaze from the picture of a fluffy-looking Ragdoll with extremely striking blue eyes; Klaus swore the book’s artists must have intended for that effect because his Swede was so captivated that he forgot to blink!

Oscar got that sort of intense unblinking stare Klaus found himself an unfortunate subject of when he least expected. When he stretched his back muscles and made his joints pop after crouching down to shelve the items, for instance. It caught him off-guard and sent a chill down his spine but he would be lying if he didn’t find it a little electrifying as well. More than a little if he dared to be honest. Ben had called him a narcissist and while Klaus hadn’t quite agreed with his brother, he hadn’t repudiated that view either. One thing for sure though was Klaus thrilled to attention, and one that came from an ex-assassin with a penchant for splattering brains without warning brought him a sort of quaint ecstasy the pills never could have.

Not that he had touched a single pill for several years. Not even painkillers.

Then, very coincidentally, very unfortunately, Klaus discovered that intense gaze was also reserved for any feline in any form they happened to come across.

Right now, for instance.

His temples throbbing with the residue of the hangover headache, Klaus dropped himself on the mattress. He let it swallow him for a few moments before he started bouncing, the towel secured around his narrow hips dangerously close to slipping from his body. He paid his jeopardized modesty no mind as they were alone in this room and he wouldn’t risk traumatizing any pure soul for life; there really was nothing Oscar hadn’t seen when he saved Klaus from the disgraceful death in his own bath — long, boring story that involved a frowning amount of booze. His movements succeeded in breaking the blue-eyed Ragdoll spell and Oscar turned his attention to Klaus. Satisfied, Klaus took in the faintest arch of his eyebrows and the questioning glint in his pale blue eyes.

“Have you ever seen any animal ghost?” Klaus started, propping his head up on one arm. The question seemed to come out of nowhere but by now the ghost had adapted himself to his unique brand of randomness.

Oscar shook his head. His eyes silently requested Klaus to elaborate.

“Me neither. Strange, huh? Everywhere is teeming with human ghosts like ants but there’s not a single doggo or kitty. I bet they’d be a lot cuter. Maybe they pass on easily because they aren’t baggage-ridden, unlike us?”

Baggage. That word felt like a sucker punch to Klaus’s guts. His hand blindly reached for the dog tags resting on his chest, the tips of his fingers tracing Dave’s name engraved on the scratched surface. He had listened to Allison’s advice and tried to move on, really tried, but sometimes his thoughts couldn’t help running to Dave, just like his body couldn’t help breaking out in goosebumps at the sight of any pills. Had Dave already gone into the light and was now resting in eternal serenity because that was what his gentle soul deserved? Or had he been wandering the earth still in search of something he himself couldn’t name but had been a thorn on his side for long enough he was utterly scared to let it go? The thought produced a light sizzle at his fingertips — a knee-jerk reaction, and the temptation to tap into his powers was so potent Klaus had to dig his nails into his palms to stamp it out. He suspected there was certain addictive elements in the use of their powers: Five was the most transparent, no doubt; Allison showed serious reluctance to rumor someone in fear of abusing it; Vanya made sure to use hers at every chance she got, and now Klaus. Wasn’t Oscar’s 24/7 semi-corporeality a warning sign? Besides, supposed he managed to conjure Dave, what could possibly be the point? The ‘Klaus’ of this timeline had never lived, and the Dave of this timeline would likely remember Klaus as the fraudulent cult leader who had attempted to bring him into the fold back in 1963, that was, if he remembered Klaus at all. Ben’s words echoed in his head and Klaus imagined their hypothetical conversion would only serve to confuse Dave, and one thing Klaus knew about spirits was that a broken heart wasn’t the most worrisome outcome borne out of a bewildered soul.

A nudge to his shoulder fished Klaus out of his wallow of depressive thoughts. “I’m fine,” he assured Oscar, blinking the half-formed tears out of his vision.

Due to their bond, some of his stronger emotions bled into Oscar and although he doubted the ghost acted as his emotional reservoir, he was always able to tell if Klaus was frustrated, angered or dejected and thus tried to pacify him in his own mute, peculiar way. It used to creep him out a little at first, as he wasn’t used to others reading his true emotions, but after a while Klaus started to appreciate that there was one person who partly understood what was running through the thing called his brain without him yelling at the top of his lungs or bawling his eyes out at them.

“Where were we?” he asked. “Ah yeah, animal ghosts. It’d be nice if they existed, wouldn’t it? No way my broke ass can afford such a pedigree cat.” He tapped his index finger on the picture of the mesmerizing Ragdoll. “Costs a fortune, y’know, not to mention the food and toys and—”

He cut himself when he saw a crestfallen look had settled on Oscar’s handsome countenance. “You understand it’s impossible to adopt every stray cat we run into, right? Oh Jesus, you _really_ think we should adopt every stray cat we run into and make this house a cat shelter.”

Klaus was reminded of one occasion when they were strolling along a street and having a casual conversation where Klaus was comfortable in doing most of the talking and Oscar had no complaint about doing most of the listening. Klaus was half-way through his reinvented fable of the frog and the scorpion when he turned to his side and found an empty spot. It almost sent him into panic mode to think he had somehow lost his ghost but it turned out his companion had fallen behind to pet a scrawny cat with matted black fur. Weirder still, the cat seemed to see him as its huge yellow eyes followed Oscar’s hand and it _purred_.

Klaus had never felt quite stressed in his life like the moment he became the focus of Oscar’s pleading gaze.

“Bottom line is I’m allergic to animal furs,” Klaus huffed in his defense, rolling on his back. “You didn’t have any allergies when you were alive, did you?”

Oscar shook his head, which could mean either he hadn’t had or he didn’t remember.

“Anyway if I happen to inhale some cat furs, I’ll make sure to pass it to you. Secondhand allergy, hah.”

To Klaus’s surprise, his half-ass threat actually brought a rare smile to Oscar’s stoic face. Klaus grinned at him, jabbing his finger playfully at the ghost’s thigh. “You look cute when you smile,” he commented. “Not that you ain’t cute when sporting your usual ‘down for business’ expression. I guess I just like it when people smile. Better than cry or scowl really.”

_“Söt.”_

Klaus heard a single word broadcast into his mind. After his first night with Oscar, he had discovered that the Swede was able to ‘talk’ to him through their link, something even he and Ben hadn’t been able to despite their long years together. Again, there had been no real need for the brothers to develop mental communication since neither had suffered the loss of speech. Besides, this method, despite lending Oscar a ‘voice’, was extremely limited in the way that he could only produce one word at a time. And for some reason, he had picked Swedish as his default setting in spite of his A-plus fluency in English.

“Me?” Klaus asked, pointing to his nose. “You think I’m cute?”

_“Ja.”_

Klaus pressed a hand to his heart. “Aw, are you flirting with me?” he asked, feigning surprise.

Oscar stared at him like he had all of sudden lost his capability to understand English, or pretended to, it was very hard to tell.

“You must be,” he drawled, pushing it little further, “‘cuz that’s what I’ve been doing for a while.”

_“Ja.”_

Same curt reply spoken in monotonous, broken-radio ‘voice’ and yet there was an assertive undertone not normally associated with the quiet Swede, like he had known all along and only played along to fuck with Klaus. The realization made Klaus round his eyes for a solid five seconds before breaking into a fit of uncontrollable giggles. Where Ben would have scowled at his erratic behavior, Oscar, in his typical Oscar-fashion, did not so much as roll his eyes, only putting a hand on Klaus’s bony shoulder as if to prevent him from falling off the bed. God knew Klaus needed that daily dose of reminder that he hadn’t, subconsciously or otherwise, used Oscar as a replacement for his gone brother.

When his hysterical giggles eventually died out, Klaus laid still, studying the spider cracks on the ceiling in a rare appreciation of the silence that provided some reprieve from his dull headache. The house, not just his room, was so quiet at this hour of the day when its residents were out, well, the living ones at least; the ‘free-loaders’ as he liked to call them were probably haunting the unlit nooks and crannies this mansion had abundant of, and it was fine as long as they kept to themselves and stayed away from him. He recalled clenching both fists and lashing out at the horde while his siblings had stared at the scene with confusion and probably wondered if he had fallen back into his drug habits. Yet even that hadn’t been enough to deter a number of his devout followers from swarming him — dead or alive, they had never failed to make him feel like his skin was on fire. That had all changed with Oscar’s arrival; it turned out that not all spirits were created equal and one that was an armed professional killer could effectively disperse a persistent crowd.

His Swiss-army buddy, as he had told Allison.

Speaking of Allison...

“I didn’t tell Allison the whole truth in the kitchen,” Klaus said. “You know I didn’t, you were there with me when he came. I feel bad for that and it’s not just because we’ve made a promise not to hold any more secrets between us. If what he said is true, Allison deserves to know it, all of them do. But...”

Klaus trailed off, suddenly at a loss for words even though it was so easy to ramble on with Oscar; something about his soothing silence and lack of judgment encouraged Klaus to be more honest with himself and pour his heart out.

“Thinking about what he said only intensifies my migraine,” Klaus groaned. OG Ben or AU Ben, one thing they had in common was that they both gave him a difficult time. “And I can’t even take painkillers. _Scheisse_!”

Oscar stretched his legs on the mattress and motioned for Klaus to use his thigh as a pillow, which Klaus did with zero hesitation; familiarity squashed away any awkwardness he might have felt when this first happened. Soon as Klaus laid his head down, he felt cold fingers threading through his long curls and gently applying pressure to his scalp.

He must have read somewhere that the scalp contained numerous blood vessels and nerves, and thus was very sensitive. No wonder it felt _heavenly_ when someone pulled his hair or massaged his scalp.

“How did you learn to do this?” Klaus asked with a contented sigh. His lingering headache hadn’t miraculously gone away, no, but now it was screaming behind a thick wall and he could only catch faint echoes of it as his eyelids grew heavy and his bones slowly melted into butter. “You’re insanely good at it.”

_“Katter.”_

“What?” His answer wasn’t what Klaus expected. “You mean this is how you pet cats?” Then realization barged in and patrick-swayzed him in the fucking face. “Wait a tick, are you implying that I’m a human-sized pussy?”

The little tilt of Oscar’s head spoke more than a hundred words he could say. Moreover, since he didn’t technically ‘say’ anything, Klaus had no retort.

He stuck his bottom lip out in a petulant pout, residing to his lot. “If that’s the case then this pussy wants her cream and her belly rub and her ear scratch _schnell_. And she wants a nap too ‘cuz the weather is so nice.”

Klaus adjusted his head on Oscar’s laps and stretched his limbs further into the mattress, basking in the afternoon light streaming through the window. He wasn’t a nap person but it seemed very appealing a notion at the moment. Plus, he had until the others came home for his ‘me time’, and what was the point of ‘me time’ if he wasn’t going to indulge himself a little bit?

With that in mind he allowed his eyes to shut.

...

The wind chimes hung above the door rang loud and clear in the slow afternoon.

“Feel free to look around the shop,” Klaus called out from his position behind one of the shelves, having spent the last hour or so dusting and arranging the newly arrived items. “I’ll be with you right away.”

There was a brief silence and then the soft skid of shoes on the linoleum floor. “Uhm... it’s my first time being in such a shop,” a voice said. “Mind coming out and showing me around?”

Klaus froze. The rag he’d been cleaning the items with slipped from his hand.

“Hello? You’re in there, aren’t you?” the voice spoke again, sounding a little impatient.

Some of Klaus’s panic must have been channeled into Oscar because the Swede’s expression hardened and he lifted his gun, aiming for the newcomer’s face. Klaus had but a second to stop him from pulling the trigger. “Stay with me,” he whispered, squeezing Oscar’s wrist with enough force to be painful if he was made of flesh.

Klaus stood up, brushing off dust from his unbuttoned vest and laced-up pants. His eyes zeroed in the man standing in the middle of his tiny antique shop, sticking out like a sore thumb in his maroon blazer embroidered with the logo of The Sparrow Academy.

Number One. Reggie’s golden boy. Ben’s ‘reincarnation’ in this timeline.

Klaus nearly slapped himself for that last description.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Number One of The Sparrow Academy,” he said, trying for his airiest tone. It ended up having chips of ice. “To what I owe the honor?”

Klaus glanced outside and saw a Porsche parked in front of his shop. It appeared he had come alone. “That’s not the place for parking, my dear,” he continued. “Better move before you get a ticket. Oh, on second thought, maybe the cop’ll give you a pass. Superman never gets a ticket, right?”

A frown appeared between Number One’s eyebrows, which couldn’t be a positive sign. Sweats slicked Klaus’s palms. Next to him, Oscar was vibrating with the urge to open fire.

“Why are you here? Klaus asked, dropping the faux-flirty tone. “To tie up some _unfinished_ business?”

Klaus puffed his chest out and cocked his head slightly. With the way he dressed and stood, it was impossible to miss the scar on his throat; on the contrary, it attracted Number One’s eyes like a magnet. His posture stiffened (if that was even possible) and his Adam’s apple moved.

“Look, I came without any malice, alright?” Number One said, holding his palms up in a gesture of peace. “Can we sit down and... talk?”

Klaus chuckled dryly. Soon his chuckles became full-blown laughter. “Would you care for some tea and scones, too?” he asked in mock-British accent, bending to hug his stomach. “Would Earl Grey suit your aristocratic taste bud? Wait, we’re out of Earl Grey. Would you mind waiting for a bit? Be right—”

“Can you drop that?” Number One snarled. “I’m being serious.”

Klaus straightened himself at once. “You want serious?” he said icily, even though his blood felt like it was simmering in his veins. “If you aren’t here to splatter me on the wall then kindly fuck off.”

Number One jerked a thumb to the glazed door. “Doesn’t the sign say ‘all welcome’?”

“I’ll make an exception just for you, love.”

A tiny smirk made its way to Number One’s lips. “And if I don’t? You’ll make me?”

“You don’t think I can?”

“I think we both know you aren’t the most capable fighter among your siblings. Besides, do you really want a fight in your shop?”

“Seems fair. You have eldritch beings nesting in your tummy and I _can see dead people_ — not sure if you catch that reference though. I’d bet my money on you too.”

“I know that movie!”

“I used to think I was that kid but with an asshole dad and far prettier, mind you, but lately I realized I was wrong all along.”

Klaus matched Number One’s smirk with his trademark grin, all gleaming teeth and bordering on maniac. “The wing mirror, _bitte_.”

The blink-and-you-miss-it transition from mild perplexity to pure shock at the noise on Number One’s face was a well of pleasure Klaus was sure to draw from for the foreseeable future.

“What the fuck was that?” Number One asked, whipping his head so fast Klaus got a bit dizzy just looking.

“Payback I suppose,” Klaus replied, “for your ‘homecoming’ gift. Just don’t think we’re even though.”

Number One looked like he wanted to unleash The Horrors. Klaus tensed, exchanging a look with Oscar, who nodded.

“How did you do that?” Number One asked, a hand hovering over his abdomen as if to physically stop the tentacles from bursting out. Klaus’s throat tightened; it was something Ben used to do. “I don’t think your powers work that way, no offense.”

Klaus chewed his lower lip as he chewed over his next words. “You know nothing, Sparrow,” Klaus said, doing his best imitation of Yigritte’s accent while keeping his dry tone. “What if I tell you there’s a seven-foot-tall Swedish assassin, armed to the teeth like Rambo, standing behind you with his rifle pressed against the back of your skull, ready and eager to make a splatter fest?”

Oscar, his face impassive, instantly adjusted his gun to match the description.

Klaus fully expected Number One to scoff and call his bluff — in that case the windshield looked rather promising — but he only gave a little nod. “That makes sense,” he said, voice low. “You were called The Séance after all.”

“What did you say?”

No-one had referred to Klaus by that once-upon-a-time codename for a long time, whether in this new timeline or the old one he and his siblings had left behind.

Number One seemed surprised by his surprise. “Your codename, wasn’t it? You all had one. The big guy was Spaceboy, the angry-looking man was The Kraken, the tall woman was The Rumor—”

“How the hell did you know? None of us had told you and we aren’t supposed to exist in this timeline!”

“That’s what I came here for. You think I enjoy having my car damaged and my life threatened?”

Klaus leaned back against the counter, his knees shaking. His heart was a jackrabbit high on cocaine inside his rib cages. “Maybe that’s how you discover your kinks,” he said, hoping the quiver didn’t show much in his voice. “You wanna talk? Fine, shoot! You’ve got, like, five minutes. I don’t have all day, y’know.”

The crease between Number One’s brows deepened and his lips twitched. His fists clenched before he shoved them into his pants pockets. He looked angry enough to lurch forward and deck Klaus if there wasn’t the hanging threat of being headshot by an invisible assassin. Klaus didn’t blame him though; he was incredibly _charming_ like that.

“I’ve been... seeing things lately,” Number One began with an exhale, his stiff shoulders sagging. “It has started since you people appeared in the mansion from out of nowhere... I think.”

“Things like ghosts?” Klaus sneered.

“Things like... dreams, for instance, and strange déjà-vus, visions, flashes. I’m not sure myself. Like last night, I was in some dingy motel room with some creepy-ass looking people. Some missing a limb, some with their guts spilled out or an ax lodged in their head, like they took Halloween dead serious — no pun intended. They were forming a tight circle around... you, and you were mostly naked but for a dirtied towel and you were bound to a chair. There was blood caked on your ears, your neck and chest, like you’d been roughed up quite a bit.”

Klaus felt like he couldn’t breathe, memory of that one time he’d almost drowned in the bathtub filled the inside of his skull. He heard what Number One was saying with perfect clarity, but his brain, submerged in a body of viscous liquid, registered only about half of its meaning, and that was being generous. Behind Number One, Oscar looked torn between keeping his post and returning to Klaus’s side.

“There was this weird dream where I was drifting in the dark and suddenly I saw a tendril of blue light,” Number One continued, seemingly unaware of Klaus’s distress. “I grabbed it like a lifeline and let it pulled me forward and the next thing I knew I was in a courtyard covered in snow. On that snowy background there was a lanky kid wearing a uniform similar to mine, only it was dark blue. I don’t know how I could tell it was you, the hair, the outfit, the age didn’t match, but somehow I just... knew.”

Klaus huffed a laugh. “Why are you telling me all of these? I don’t know about you or what Reggie’s been teaching you guys at the Academy but it’s pretty intimate to tell someone about your wet dreams. Even I am reluctant do that after the third or fourth fuck.”

Number One flushed beet-red. “They’re not wet dreams!” he barked.

“Aren’t they? You just told me you dreamed about me with nothing but a towel on in some creepy, BDSM-inspired scene and then me being a kid in tiny shorts. You sure you aren’t a closeted pedo?”

His lips quirked. “No need to be too embarrassing. I kind of have that effect on people.”

“I’m telling you because they seem to have a deeper meaning than regular dreams which gets stuck in my head and because they involved _you_! You who I had never seen before that day.”

“Then I’m telling you they mean nothing!” Klaus shot back. “If you insist they have to possess any meaning whatsoever, grab a book and seek Freud’s counsel. Trust me, he’ll tell you that you need to get laid. Normally I’d say ‘Glad to help’ but tentacles are a major turn-off so, no.”

“Klaus!”

Klaus froze, the need to breathe forgotten for several seconds. How he called his name, the voice, the tone, the underlying frustration, was the same as how Ben used to call him out when he did something stupid or absurd and Ben was powerless in stopping him.

God just loved to torture him, didn’t she?

“Five minutes is up,” he said, moving to Number One’s side and not-so-subtly shoving him to the door. “Sorry but I still have a business to run and you’re very much in the way. Literally.”

Number One showed little resistance, which should be a surprise but at this point Klaus was past caring. “This isn’t over,” he said with burning affirmation, singeing Klaus as he caught his wrist by the pulse.

“It _is_ over.”

“Not until these, whatever these are, stop, which they aren’t showing any signs to. I know we started off on the wrong foot—”

“Understatement of the decade.”

“—and, and I’m sorry about that,” Number One continued, without missing a beat. “I truly am.”

The way he spoke those words so earnestly and his eyes were determined to lock gaze with Klaus’s, Klaus almost bought it. Almost.

Arrogant and short-tempered as Number One was, he didn’t seem the liar type.

Neither did he seem the apology type.

“So we just shake on it and be besties from now on?” Klaus asked, prying Number One’s fingers from his wrist. “What a delightful idea. Let me consider it once this little scratch fade completely.”

“I’m not expecting to gain your forgiveness right away but… please... can I come to see you again? They’re getting stronger by the day and I can’t tell Sir Hargreeves. He’d—”

He cut himself short, a flash of horror in his eyes. _In Ben’s eyes_ , when his little brother had clung to Klaus after a private lesson with Dad.

Well, at least they got one thing in common. That didn’t mean Klaus was ready to welcome this Ben lookalike who had given him the harshest blow into his barely put-together world. Not now, not sure if ever.

He felt drained to the core, which meant he was dictated to fill it up the only way he knew.

“Leave” was all that came out of his trembling lips.

Once the Porsche had driven off, Klaus slumped against Oscar’s form, resting his forehead against his shoulder. “Let’s close for the day.”

He was well on finishing his third bottle when he heard Diego’s voice.

“What has your lazy ass been doing all day?” He heard his brother speak, then shriek. Huh, so unlike Diego.

“Jesus Christ! Put on some pants you perv!”

Klaus blinked blearily at Diego’s back at the door, his sleep-laced mind barely registering what had caused his brother to make such a fuss. Rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand, he looked down his body and found himself sorely lacking cover; the towel laid crumpled on the side, having slipped from his body due to his movements in sleep. He looked up to Oscar, who was wearing a blank expression like Klaus’s nudity was just his everyday thing.

Not an ‘everyday’ thing, just a ‘sometimes’ thing.

“Jesus Christ,” Klaus mock-exclaimed, lifting himself to sitting position, “knock the door first you perv.”

Though he said it with no venom, Klaus couldn’t help a grin upon seeing the pink tips of Diego’s ears. “What if I’m doing something R-rated huh, like bumping hips?”

He padded barefooted to his built-in wardrobe and picked out some underwear and a rather plain pair of skinny jeans plus a thin gray tee with a low V-shaped neck.

“Who could you be having sex wi—oh shit. Do. not. answer. that.”

It was not easy to wiggle a tight pair of jeans on when he was shaking with laughter but Klaus managed. It certainly lightened his mood after _that_ dream. And the cherry on top was when he glanced at Oscar, the young Swede was smiling.

“You can look now,” Klaus said, pulling the T-shirt over his head. He considered for a second before pulling the dog tags out in front of the shirt. “Who’s making dinner tonight?”

“I am. We’re having tacos.”

“Yay tacos!” Klaus exclaimed, clapping his hands excitedly.

“And you’re having none if you don’t come down and give me a hand.”

Klaus immediately deflated.

He threw the used towel in the laundry basket in the corner. “Uhm, did Five say anything about... his liquor stash?”

“No,” Diego replied, looking puzzled. Then he squinted his eyes suspiciously. “Oi, are you thinking about stealing his alcohol? Just so you know, if he buries you under six feet of cement for that, no way I’m gonna dig you up.”

Klaus pouted. “One day I’m suing you for mistreatments of your little brother.”

“Ha-ha, I’m _dying_ for that day.”

As he was about to leave the room, Klaus turned to Oscar and asked, “You comin’?”, which earned a raised eyebrow from Diego. “It’s OK if you want to stay here.”

Oscar closed the pop-up book, placed it on the bedside table and hopped down the bed.

Klaus let out a fondly exasperated sign to see the Swede pick up his beloved gun.

_End_

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve always envisioned Klaus as a cat with black fur and sparkling green eyes, especially after that scene in ‘Valhalla’ where he mimed cat claw at Ben.
> 
> Most of the ghosts in the mansion were Klaus’s ‘Destiny’s Children’.


End file.
